Drinks With An Old Friend
by bluerain1984
Summary: Severus meets with an old friend for a drink and some creative story-telling.   For the Snapette's 'We Whip Them' Challenge.


**Drinks With An Old Friend**

The pub was, as always, old and dusty looking, though the truth of the matter was that the proprietress kept it in impeccable shape. The Three Broomsticks was always the better of the two pubs in town, and there weren't any students poking their noses about during Hogsmeade Weekends in here, most of the time. Severus stepped inside, and looked along the occupied tables until he spied his old friend, Lucius Malfoy, sitting in the far left-hand side's corner. Away from the setting sun, it seemed. He released a slow sigh through his nose, then he made his slow way through the room to Lucius's table. "Severus," the flaxen haired man said, "Thank you for coming. I do understand that my request was quite sudden but-"

"Don't bother, Lucius, you know courtesy isn't necessary," the dark haired, fair skinned wizard said as he took the seat across from his physical opposite. "We are friends, and you did, after all, gift Slytherin's Quidditch team with both new equipment and a new Seeker. It is an honor to meet with you."

Lucius in his false modesty waved a gloved hand at Severus, then leaned backward slightly, as he let himself relax. "It was my pleasure to provide the brooms and uniforms. After all, my old house deserves only the best." He paused as Madam Rosemerta walked over to the men. The buxom witch then spoke. "Evenin', Mr. Malfoy," she looked at Lucius with slight contempt, while her look to Severus was more welcome, "Professor. What can I get for you gentlemen?"

"Ogden's. Your oldest bottle, Rosemerta, dear," Lucius said.

"Ale will do, Madam, thank you," was the more dour man's reply. Rosemerta's reply was a curt nod to both requests and she walked off, her hips sashaying slightly with each step. Mr. Malfoy, of course, followed every step the woman made. Professor Snape, however, had his eyes trained at the window, out toward the darkening sky.

"How is Draco, by the by?" Lucius asked, picking up their conversation precisely where it left off.

Severus closed his eyes briefly, before he looked at his old schoolmate, and answered, "He is doing well enough. Decent in Grades, though he could pay more attention in Herbology. Potions is not a problem, obviously... The boy is only twelve and already thinks himself a small Lothario, though."

"Like father, like son," Lucius said, pride coming in to his voice. Of course it would. Severus had always admired Lucius Malfoy for his confidence and the aura of power that he exuded, however, the one thing he detested greatly was how smug about it he was, and how much he loved to rub the fact that he could have any woman on the planet in to the noses of those who were not as handsome or charming. Like Severus. Oh, how Severus, just once, wanted to revel in being ahead of Lucius in that department. But even though Malfoy was married, he still seemed to have a steady stream of witches happy to be in his bed.

Rosemerta returned with a bottle of Ogdens, and a small glass for Scotch, as well as a bottle of plain, common ale. After setting them down, Lucius's cool, winter grey eyes flicked to the woman. "Rosemerta, you seem to be upset. What is troubling you?" he asked, using a honeyed tone.

"D'unno, Lucius," the witch replied, her hands going to her curved hips. "Maybe a little fact that I owled you three times last year about that little 'promise' you made me, and I got nothing back? Or that you did this ten years ago? And five more years before then?"

"Now, Rosie, my pet, don't tell me you are still upset about that?" the light-haired wizard asked.

"No. I'm not. I'm upset that after telling myself that I wouldn't let your sharp-chinned face in here again, you still managed to sweet-talk me in to letting you inside my pub. This is the LAST time, Lucius," she asserted before looking at Severus. She took a breath, then bowed her head. "I'm sorry, Professor. Enjoy your drink." Then she walked back to the central bar counter.

"She'll never let you forget that you promised to toss Narcissa for her, Lucius," Severus said softly before he opened his bottle and took a long swig.

"Oh, that was all just show," he assured Severus. "She adores me. Always will." Lucius poured himself a full glass of the Ogden's, then sipped on it slowly, as if attempting to savor the flavor. "I have a-," but before Lucius could venture further with his original thought, there were sounds of girlish giggling outside. Two witches, Seventh Years, by the look, one with a Ravenclaw scarf around her neck, the other dressed casually in a green cloak pinned with a silver Slytherin brooch at the neck, ran past the windows. Severus knew them. His Advanced Potions class, both girls were in it. Rather talented witches, they were. Lucius's voice broke through Severus's thoughts, again, with a new topic. "How do survive up there?"

"Pardon?" Severus asked him.

"How do you survive, year after year, living in that castle, surrounded by all those witches?" Lucius asked him. As Malfoy poured himself more Scotch, Severus thought on that.

"What do you mean, precisely?"

"Those witches," Lucius said, after another long sip. "Like those two who just passed. Young, but eighteen and already women in every way, looking sweet and succulent every day? If I were you, I would die from so much blood leaving my head!" Severus's left dark eyebrow lifted up in a quirked arch. What was this? Lucius Malfoy, the self proclaimed Don Juan of the Wizarding World, second only to that pompous peacock Lockheart, was jealous of him? Severus Snape, Bat of the Dungeons and considered a 'Greasy Git' by the vast majority of the student body? Severus was about to burst the man's delusional bubble when a brief idea entered his mind. A most deliciously deviant idea. Why not? Didn't he want to rub something in this prat's face, just once?

Severus chuckled softly, one of those rare moments of laughter, and he leaned back, picking up his bottle of ale. "I don't care for the 'sweet and succulent' ones, Lucius," he told him. "The witches I enjoy most are the troublemakers. They do whatever they like because they think they can get away with it, but I am far more observant than they think... Then they find themselves issued a long, and arduous detention in the dungeons. Some learn their lesson, of course," he added, his voice hinting at something that never happened, not even once in all his thirteen years of teaching. He paused to take another swig of his ale, and continued on, "Others, though, make it a point to get in trouble. Again, and again. And again," he punctuated by setting his bottle down on the table.

Severus was the perfect liar. Lucius's mouth had dropped and his eyes had gone so wide that the whites could be entirely seen around the gray iris. He sputtered, making no discernible word, then Lucius finally managed to ask, "I- I had no idea! Wha- what precisely do you do, to these girls when you give them detention?" The depraved thoughts must have been running around in Lucius's mind. "Humiliation, right? Strapped to the old stocks? Spankings with the paddle? I bet you do that, don't you?" he asked, grinning now, ear to ear. Severus snorted. "Stocks and Spankings are reserved for the more reserved houses. Hufflepuffs get more 'appropriate' treatment."

"As expected of a Slytherin," Lucius said, "You make it worse for those Gryffindor teases, don't you?"

"Indeed. Slytherin Professors like myself reserve the most degrading punishments for Gryffindors." Severus was perhaps now feeling the effects of that ale. He was beginning to actually believe his own lies.

"Well, then," Lucius said, leaning in. The man was obviously getting intoxicated as well. "What do Slytherin Professors, like you, do to them?"

Severus smirked at his friend, his friend whom he both admired and hated at once, and then fed him the best lie of all. He purred out in a silken tone, as images of all the most troublesome witches of the past flicked through his mind's eye, "We whip them."


End file.
